Conversation
by snowbluedream
Summary: Sesel found it quite odd. She never thought she'd have so much in common with a complete and total stranger.


Sesel found it quite odd. She never thought she'd have so much in common with a complete and total stranger.

Sesel stared at the ceiling of her hotel room idly. She didn't get it; why didn't anyone seem to notice her?

Well, Francis and Arthur did. She used to be their colony, anyway. But other than that, Sesel could not help but feel invisible to most of the world. She could not understand why either, for her islands were beautiful places with sunny beaches and wonderful fish. She was even called "The Last Paradise" by some geographers, if she remembered correctly.

So why was it so hard to get noticed?

She huffed and sat up abruptly. It occurred to her that nobody seemed to pay the slightest bit of attention to her anyways, and it annoyed her. The Seychellois stomped out of her room, ready to stuff her face with pastries at the little café on the first floor (because that's what people are supposed to do when their angry, right?).

After Sesel found a table to sit at, she looked down at her tray. There were three oversized pancakes stacked on one another, a caramel latte, a king sized chocolate bar, and two mints. Normally, she'd practically hurl at the sight of all this junk put together, but she was too irritated to think about that and began sipping her latte.

"U-um, Miss?"

Sesel looked up, only to notice a man who looked awfully familiar. He had blue-violet eyes and wavy blond hair. She could've sworn he wasn't there a few seconds ago. "What?" She said rather rudely.

He winced a little at the offensive edge in her voice, but let it go. Instead he stared at her plate of pancakes. "Do you have any maple syrup to go with that?"

She was baffled by the unusual question; who would ask something so indiscriminate while she was trying to take out her anger on the rather disgusting, yet delicious tray right in front of her? It was inhuman! Could she not eat like a pig in peace? But, for the sake of this poor, innocent man, she replied, "No… I guess not."

"Want some?"

"Huh?"

"I would think those pancakes would taste a lot better with some maple syrup, eh?"

She stared at the man, realizing he was probably Canadian. She then glanced at her pancakes; those deprived, naked, dry pancakes…

"I guess so…" The Canadian man grinned; he obviously liked his maple syrup, and didn't want anyone to miss out on the "amazing" experience. Then (out of his _pocket_ of all places), he took out a full bottle of the sweet, sticky sap. He placed it in front of her, muttering an, "Enjoy."

Sesel took the bottle reluctantly. She wasn't sure she wanted to feast on this crap anymore, for the man had taken her mind off her frustration. Sesel mentally noted that she should thank him for that later, then poured the syrup lightly on her pancakes. She took a bite, savoring the sweet flavor that began tickling her taste buds. This was the best syrup she'd had in a while, and she didn't eat syrup often in the first place. She giggled.

"Like it?"

"Definitely," she beamed at him. "Where'd you get this stuff, anyway?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah, it's something my country takes pride in. It's authentic, not like that fake crap you find in America or anything." She laughed at the thought, remembering that other nations didn't seem to get along with America, and he tended to yell something about being "The Hero" all the time.

"Yeah, the real stuff is best. Oh, by the way, I don't think I got you're name. What is it?"

She could see the corner of his mouth twitch. He seemed happy about something, but she couldn't tell why. "My name's Matthew Williams, I'm the country of Canada."

Sesel smiled warmly. "It's nice to meet you, Matthew. I'm Sesel, the islands of Seychelles."

Matthew's eyes seemed to widen in interest. "Ah, Papa told me about you. You were the one that got taken by Arthur, right?"

She tilted her head and cocked an eyebrow. "Papa? You mean Francis?"

He looked puzzled. "Yes, he told me he raised you, right?"

Sesel's expression brightened again. "Yes, he did. I heard a little about you from Papa as well. He told me you were a very quiet boy, something about beautiful skin or something…" She could feel her cheeks going red as she recalled the rather… er… _explicit_ description Francis had given her of the Canadian. He followed suite.

"Uh, yeah… Don't mind him, he's a little, uh, _erotic _sometimes… Ha ha…" At this point, both of their faces were as bright as cherries, and they sat in silence until they finally composed themselves.

"… Er hem, _anyways…_ What's it like in your country? Are you recognized by many nations, I would think you'd be the type; you're a very easy person to get along with."

Matthew's face saddened, he looked down at his hands glumly. "No, I'm afraid not, Sesel. My country, I think, is a wonderful place to live in, but I'm think I'm too overshadowed by my brother…" he trailed off, his eyes blankly staring downward. Sesel suddenly wished she hadn't asked him that.

"Well, don't worry. I'm kind of the same way, at least the not noticed part…"

The Canadian's head shot up. "How is that possible? You're a very charming girl, you know," his face went slightly red. "and I think you're a very beautiful person. I would have no idea why people would not recognize you as a nation."

Sesel was shocked, but she composed herself again. Hearing those words, she felt her heart lift up a little. She was _charming,_ and she was _beautiful._ She smiled to herself, wondering why she had been so angry before. The Seychellois looked up at Matthew again. His reddened a little more.

"That, Matthew, is one of the best compliments I've ever gotten. Really, I appreciate that, so," she winked at him. "_Je vous remercie!"_

He sat there, frozen for a moment. He then found himself winking back at her saying, "_Vous êtes bienvenu."_


End file.
